


Beginning with Goodbye

by MisfiredSynapse



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Drabble, F/M, Memories, Mentions of kids, Mourning, Oneshot, martin septim deserved better, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 09:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisfiredSynapse/pseuds/MisfiredSynapse
Summary: The Hero says goodbye to Martin; thirty years after she lost hin.





	Beginning with Goodbye

The last time she had set foot in the Temple of the One, the sky had been burning as all of Oblivion descended upon the Imperial City. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the clash of swords, still smell the brimstone and blood of the daedric hordes... but they were gone now. All signs of them had been erased from the Temple. If it weren't for the paintings dotting the walls, the battle might well have never happened.

Her footsteps echoed slightly when she walked. Emerging from an archway, she found her gaze moved straight to the dragon. They had fenced it off. An attempt to protect the statue from worshipping hands, the metal fence made sure that visitors couldn't easily touch the dragon. She had lingered in the hallways for longer than necessary, gnarled hands hidden under the long sleeves of her robes.

“Hello, Old Friend.” She gazed up at the stone dragon. It did not reply, but she didn’t expect it to. Just standing before the statue for the first time in thirty years was enough.

Age had withered both her looks and her strength. Her hair, once red as forge-fire, had faded to grey. Lines were prominent on her face, gathered thick around her eyes. Her hands shook sometimes, struggled to hold anything heavier than their own weight, and she carried the cold in her bones. Despite it, her mind was still clear, her green eyes as sharp as always, and she could still dance with a blade if the need arose.

But she knew her time was coming to an end. It was why she had undertaken such a long pilgrimage, ignoring the advice from healers and her own small family. Her son was in the markets with his own wife, taking in the sights of the Imperial City. 

“Look at me. I am old now, Martin. Older than I ever thought I’d be,” she said quietly. The Temple of the One was empty but for her and the priests, busy with their duties. None paid her any mind. Nobody had recognised her this way, in a simple peasant’s dress and not in full armour. Three decades had been enough to freeze her image as she had been, with no account for the passage of time. In thinking of the Champion, people didn’t think of a hunchbacked old lady with shaking hands. They thought of the fire-haired warrior with her bloodied spear in hand.

Her likeness had been painted and hung on the walls. As the Temple stood now as a shrine to Martin, her portraits were there for viewing as well. She had passed them on the way in, barely pausing to see how the artists had exaggerated her deeds.

A smile graced her mouth. “I did as you asked, you know,” she murmured. “He has your eyes. Your smile. My temper,” she laughed, a hollow sound. “I still don’t know that’s a good thing.”

Her eyes closed. The grip of cold metal beneath her hands kept her grounded, but her mind wandered back through the years. Time hadn’t dimmed his memory. The precious year between meeting him and losing him, those sparse few months she spent by his side. His voice, his touch, his comforting presence by her side even in silences. She still missed him.

“I haven’t told him, Martin. You would scold me for that I know. But how could I give him your shoes? Ocato knows. He said he would wait until I was ready… I left a letter. Your son will find it when he returns home. I’ll admit I have been a coward in this… for I cannot stand to see his reaction.”

She bowed her head as if in prayer. The cold in her bones felt heavier than ever. Life was grains of sand, slipping quickly through her fingers. She could cling to it all she wanted but it was never hers to keep. A sigh left her, the strength of her youth long gone. She managed enough to glance around for the priests, taking advantage of their distraction to climb awkwardly over the barrier.

Settling down against the dragon, she let herself relax. She felt closer to him than she had in years, sheltered by his wings and touching the stone that once had been flesh. Her eyes closed as she leaned her head against the dragon. “Are you waiting for me?” she whispered. “I have missed you so much…”


End file.
